


Tell the people that I am staying

by brazilian_mess



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, Latin Hetalia - Fandom
Genre: Historical Hetalia, Other, but ya know, portbra but its a father son relationship, terribble father and chaotic son relationship actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25961731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brazilian_mess/pseuds/brazilian_mess
Summary: “You forgive me” he repeated, “well, don’t bother. Goodbye, Afonso.” Luciano shoved the man’s hand away and took a step back, watching in silence as he went up to the ship, eyes burning with angry and confused tears. From the ship, Afonso raised a hand in farewell, while Luciano stood still on the pier.He had other things to worry about now.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Tell the people that I am staying

**Author's Note:**

> The “Dia do Fico” happened in January 9th, 1822.  
> Basically, the ruling Cortes in Portugal were demanding the whole Royal Family’s return to the homeland, cause the shift of the capital had basically turned Portugal into the per se colony, and they were not having it. Dom João VI went back, and became some kind of “Queen of England” type of ruler, the power was still with the ruling Cortes.   
> When it was time for the then Regent Prince Pedro to also come back, he decided to listen to the pleads of brazilian politics and nobles and stay, disobeying a direct order from the courts.   
> Because he loved a scene, and i cant really judge him on that cause i love it too, he went to a window in the palace and said to the crowd watching eagerly “if its for the good of all, and happiness of the nation, tell the people that I will stay” (in portuguese, “se é para o bem de todos e alegria geral da nação, diga ao povo que FICO.”
> 
> Part of the day one of Latam Week on tumblr

January 9, 1822. The “Dia do Fico”.  
“How dare he? Who does he think he is, the brat? The order was for him to go back home, not start a revolt against his own homeland.”   
“How dare he? Who does he think he is, the brat? The order was for him to go back home, not start a revolt against his own homeland.”   
Afonso stared at him, his hand holding the fork stopped mid-air out of shock for his son boldness. Or anger, or sadness, or betrayal. All of those mixed, his mind was not clear enough for him to know. “It is his duty. Pedro is a portuguese prince. Heir to the portuguese throne. Not a… a damn…” the nation bit his tongue, but his lips still curved down, in a expression of contempt well known by the boy in front of him. It was Luciano’s turn to start feeling the mixed emotions begin to boil inside of him.   
“A damn what? A damn brazilian, dad? Say it already.” Oh, not this shit again. He was about to throw the chair he was sitting on into the wall behind him when the pair was interrupted by a nervous servant.  
“Excuse me, Senhor Afonso, mr. Kirkland is here to see you, sir” the servant boy stuttered, eyes running from father to son, already sensing a fight that had become far too common in the household these days. Luciano straightened his back.  
“You should go see him. Don’t want to keep your dear Arthur waiting.”   
“Don’t start. We will come back to this, when I’m done with your uncle Arthur.”   
“Not my uncle.”  
“Whatever you say, son”  
“Not your- fine.” the boy stopped mid sentence. “Pedro called for me, actually. So maybe I won’t be here if you decide to come back home.”   
Afonso raised a tired look at him, still seated. “I will come back.”  
“Whatever you say, Afonso. I have other things to think about.”

...

May, 1822. The “Cumpra-se”.  
The two men were taking a cup of tea together when the messenger from the palace brought the news. Damned the day Dom João decided that his rebellious child would make a good anything, besides a irresponsible womanizer.   
“You need to fix this colony of yours, Afonso”, the englishman towered himself over his friend and ally, attempting to make a stronger point. “This Pedro boy is starting to get too many ideas, and your son will be out of your reach if you don’t react accordingly right now. Where is he, anyway?” Afonso didn’t even bother to raise his head, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, only lifting his voice.   
“Get out from behind the door, boy. I imagine you already know what this is about.” Luciano took a deep breath, maybe to invoke a much needed courage to face his father, and stepped into the room. His uncle Arthur looked at him from above, all his regal aura emanating an intimidating air.   
“Uncle, good to see you” the boy nodded in his direction, eyes locked in his father’s. “I do know what this is about. I wonder if you do, too, Afonso.”  
“I don’t. Do you care to explain it, boy?” the englishman soft voice only added to the silent threat that came along the question. Afonso still only stared at his child, seated silent in his wooden chair, but Luciano was not sure if it was a stare of disappointment or indifference. He could never tell, anyway. Not that it mattered, not anymore.  
“You can no longer meddle in my affairs as you please, Afonso. Whatever your Cortes want to do, it will have to pass through Dom Pedro’s approval first.”   
“They are not your affairs, boy. You are a colony” Arthur said to him, with a low but clear voice, as if he was the most stupid child in the land, “and colonies don’t have affairs. Their metropolises do.”   
“Not a colony, Arthur. He is a united kingdom.” the englishman and the boy turned their heads to the the man seated, in silence until now. Luciano’s eyes glimmered in shock, and Arthur curved his lips in disapproval.   
“I told you back then that this was a stupid decision.”   
“Took it anyway.”  
“Like you do all the bloody time.”  
“Enough. Luciano, this is unacceptable, you know that and you know why. You will go to the Paço and tell Pedro that this will not happen. The Cortes won’t take it.” It was obvious. Afonso couldn’t believe he even had to explain this to his innocent, dumb child. Luciano simply looked at him with his eyebrows raised.  
“The Cortes can suck it, then”, he said calmly.   
Arthur looked like an inflated balloon, scandalized and red faced like he was. Afonso stared at his son for a second, before letting loose a melancholic, yet threatening chuckle.   
“‘The Cortes can suk it, then’, he says. Tell me, son, do you think this is a joke. A mockery. If you say so, I can let it slide, I’m no grouchy old man.”, Afonso raised himself from his seat, hands on his hips and a slight smile, like a father sweetly reprimanding a naughty child. Luciano felt his brave facade waver for a second, before raising himself again.   
“You tell me, old man.”   
“Respect your father, Luciano.” Arthur said firmly, eyes jumping from one side to another, knowing too well how the situation was going to end. Luciano looked to his uncle before locking eyes with the man in front of him, making sure he would hear his words.  
“I have no father.”  
The blow came fast, the boy didn’t even seen it. Only felt it. On his face and in his pride. Afonso’s hand fell by his side slowly, shock in his eyes. And the break between the two was done, whether he liked it or not.   
“Luciano, son-”  
“You can go to hell. I’m heading to the Paço.”

...

October, 1822.  
Afonso breathed in the salty scent that one day meant for him all the adventures and glories in the world. It only smelled as dead fish, now. He looked at the boat meant to take him and Arthur back to the Old World and cringed.   
“So, are you leaving already, or what” a voice he never thought of as harsh like it was now said behind him. He turned around to find his boy staring furrowbrowed at him.   
“The ship will set sail in a few moments. I was not sure if you would come, son.” Luciano face squirmed for a fraction of a second before becoming expressionless.   
“Hm. The polite thing to do. And I wanted to see you leave once and for all.” Luciano's eyes had a dark look when he stared at the man. Not his father, only a man. A hurt man, by what he could tell.   
“I see.” Afonso sighed “I will write for you soon, when I arrive home. Things are a little chaotic there, but I will find a way, I promise.”  
“No, you won’t.”   
The duo grew silent. One servant came to tell the portuguese man that everything was settled for the departure, and he felt his stomach fall. Afonso turned to his son, put a hand on his shoulder.  
“I want you to know that I forgive you, Luci, for this whole mess. When Alfred betrayed Arthur, I only hoped this day would never come. But now that it’s here, I want you to know that I forgive you, son.” He squeezed his son’s arm softly, a twisted pleasure in delivering a last blow, in pretending to be the bigger person. Even if it was a big fat lie, and he was as bitter as one could be.   
Luciano felt his blood rush to his head, a bitter taste in his mouth. His lips turned into a fine line, and his eyes became even more dark, almost deadly. He raised his head and stared directly at the person that in that moment, he hated the most.  
“You forgive me” he repeated, “well, don’t bother. Goodbye, Afonso.” Luciano shoved the man’s hand away and took a step back, watching in silence as he went up to the ship, eyes burning with angry and confused tears. From the ship, Afonso raised a hand in farewell, while Luciano stood still on the pier.   
He had other things to worry about now. 


End file.
